


The Last Survivor

by maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Marauders, POV Remus Lupin, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Post-War, Remus Lupin Lives, Suicidal Thoughts, Trains, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: After the war, Remus visits the places that meant the most to Sirius and him. He hopes the memories of their love affair will help him move on.





	The Last Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> **Team**: Journey!
> 
> **Prompt**:

At first, they did it only when they were drunk.

Remus was in love with Sirius. He was obsessed with him. He was a desperate, lonely boy who howled at the moon and wanked to thoughts of cocks and arses and arrogant eyes. 

Sirius was distant. He was wounded. He clung to James and stared at Remus. He seemed to suspect everyone of planning to hurt him. When he had too much to drink, he found a way to be alone with Remus. He found a way to sneak a hand into his pants. 

This went on for years. They were fourteen the first time they snogged. They were sixteen the first time Sirius wrapped his lips around Remus’ cock. 

It took them until age twenty to be alone in bed. They were drunk, of course, and Sirius wanted to go further. He wanted Remus inside him. Remus had drunk too much. He was afraid he’d come too quickly.

“Moony,” Sirius whispered, his breath nothing but ale. 

“Fuck.” Remus clutched him. He wanted to fuck him, but he was afraid. He didn’t want his heart broken. 

“Don’t say anything.” Sirius produced a handful of slippery lube. He worked a finger inside his arse, then two. Remus couldn’t look. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Sirius said.

Remus trembled. “You’re mad.” 

“Do it.” Sirius opened his thighs.

Somehow, Remus got inside, and it stole his breath. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, desperate to hold on. Sirius thrashed and urged him to move. 

They stared at one another as Remus fucked him. Sirius’ eyes were bright and full of strange emotion. He was so beautiful that Remus wanted to strangle him.

“Please.”

“Tell me.” Remus grabbed his neck, giving in to his urge. 

“Take me.” Sirius’ voice was quiet like a secret. “Hurt me.”

“Yes.” Remus sped up, his mind a hot blur. He licked Sirius’ cheek.

“Love me.”

This made Remus come, and it was too much. He cried pathetically as Sirius clawed at his sweaty back. Sirius came too, stroking himself fast, and Remus could only watch sleepily. 

That was over twenty years ago, and Remus hated that he was the one who had survived. James, Sirius, and Peter. All dead. Tonks was dead, too. Even Snape was gone now, but there were rumours his ghost wandered the Hogwarts dungeons.

*

Remus felt at home in Manchester. He loved the working class city. He came from men who built the city’s ship canal and passenger railway. There was a thriving magical community, but he did his best to avoid it. Too many people knew he was a werewolf.

His life was lonely and empty. Harry allowed him to stay in Grimmauld Place, which was too kind, but all the dusty remnants of Sirius’ life made Remus suicidal. 

A few days ago, Remus had decided to go on a holiday. Not a proper holiday, no. All he did was book a few train rides and pack his old rusty trunk. There were a few places up north he needed to visit. 

The first train ride was busy and noisy, but the food had been good. His spirits lifted as London disappeared into the horizon. Soon, the crowds dispersed, and Remus stretched out and read a book. 

His first stop was Manchester because it was where he and Sirius saw their first concert. It was also where they had proper sex for the first time. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sirius’ body, young and old, scarless and damaged. Truth be told, the sex had been better after Sirius escaped Azkaban. They’d been older and less self-conscious. They’d been determined to make up for all the lost years. 

When he arrived, Manchester greeted him with dreary rain and whistling wind. He paid to leave his trunk at the counter and set off through the business centre to the small concert venue. 

Remus was shocked the venue still stood. It was an office building now, but the exterior looked the same. Remus paced in front of the building, mind clouded with memories, his throat pulsing with emotion.

He wanted to go inside, but it was private property. It was Muggle and he could use magic, but he also knew it would hurt him to see the inside changed. 

The concert had been a stupid teenage thing. The band had been rubbish, and the Muggles had been desperate to prove their rebellion. Some even wore safety pins in their ears and noses. This had made Sirius and Remus howl with laughter.

They had snogged under the flashing lights, the crowd covering them like a cloak. The music stung Remus’ ears and rattled his teeth, and he snogged Sirius harder, deeper. He had felt free for some stupid reason.

Once he was done torturing himself on the street, he returned for his trunk and rented a cheap motel room. He had a dinner of fish and chips. He watched Muggle telly until finally giving into his memories. He wanked himself to thoughts of their first time. He wished they hadn’t been pissed. He should have eaten Sirius’ arse first. He should have held him close and told him how he felt, how he’d loved him since the first time Sirius had smiled at him.

*

The next day, Remus took the train to Newquay. The Marauders had visited in the summer they were sixteen. James had wanted to learn how to surf.

James had dictated all their activities. He and Sirius took surfing lessons while Remus and Peter watched. The lad teaching them had been incredibly fit, and he’d looked like someone who belonged in America. At one point, the lad winked at Remus and Remus had smiled and innocently turned a page in his book.

Sirius had been jealous. He glared at the lad and cut his eyes suspiciously at Remus. Remus had loved it for some reason. He remembered thinking, _I want him to be jealous. I want him to want me. Let it ruin his bloody day_. 

That night, Sirius forced a bottle of whiskey into Remus’s hands, and they got proper drunk under the watching stars. As James and Peter snored softly, Remus and Sirius traded slow, quiet kisses, the magical fire turning to ash beside them. 

Remus smiled, the booze making him numb all over, and there were tears in his eyes. 

Sirius pressed closer. He whispered, “I like your scars.”

“Shut up.” Remus kissed him forcibly. He wanted him on his back.

Sirius pulled away. He was suddenly skittish. “I’m knackered,” he said, avoiding Remus’ gaze. He rolled over and went to sleep.

Not much had changed about Newquay. Remus wasted time in touristy shops and compared the nightly prices among the motels. They all charged too much, and he decided to sleep on a bench to save some money. He cast a privacy charm and laid out on his cloak. He held a staring contest with the sky before eventually falling asleep.

*

Remus’ final stop was a town hugging the west coast. Whitehaven was picturesque and historical, and it was where Sirius hid for several months before venturing to Scotland to keep an eye on Harry.

Remus had met him by the beach where he was a simple dog looking for fish. Remus had followed him to his den, somewhere in a rocky patch of foliage. Sirius had been dirty and starving, but Remus didn’t care. They fell on each other like animals, kissing wetly, tearing clothes.

The sex had been rushed, desperate, and Remus had entered him too quickly. Afterward, Remus cleaned the dirt from Sirius’ rawed hands and knees. Sirius had watched him like he was an apparition. 

He found Sirius’ old hiding place. He sat beneath the trees and remembered their hesitant conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius had said.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I was stupid … I was in pain.”

“I only wish I could have stopped you.”

Sirius looked at him with misty eyes. “No one could have stopped me.”

They had kissed and talked about James and Lily. Sirius had told him about Azkaban, starting vague, then gaining courage. They had cried and clung to each other. Remus, his mouth still full of tears, had sucked him off. 

The sea was a violent, desperate thing. It crashed into the sandy sore, and did its best to swallow the pier. Remus strolled under the heavy sky, and remembered more of their conversations. At the end of his life, before the veil stole him, Sirius opened up about his mad mum.

“My grandfather beat her,” Sirius said as they lay in his childhood bed in Grimmauld Place.

Remus ran his fingers through his black chest hair. “That’s awful.”

“She tried to hurt me physically, but, even as a child, I was too powerful for her.”

“You were a fighter, a survivor.”

“Yes.” Sirius kissed his forehead. “I don’t blame her. I resent her, and I yell at her portrait when I shouldn’t, but I understand why she thought she needed to hurt me.”

Remus turned his face away. “I hope you know that I love you. I have always loved you.”

Sirius took his face between his hands. His eyes were full of pain. “Of course I know.”

“Tell me,” he whispered.

Sirius dropped his hands. He said to wall, “I love you, too.”

Remus spent the rest of his day on the beach, watching for the sun. He wished he was back in the shelter of trees. He wished he was dead like Sirius.

There was a pub and he wandered inside. He ordered a pint and sat at the bar. There was football on the telly.

A man sat in the corner. There was a large scar on his face. He was watching Remus, and Remus knew he was another werewolf. 

The man approached him. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Remus sipped his pint.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

Remus wiped at his face. He didn’t know where his tears had come from. “Please.”

“I’m George,” the man said. 

“I’m Remus.”

George smiled, and he had a good smile. “I know. You are a war hero.”

Remus flinched. “I rather not talk about it.”

“Of course,” George said softly. He had dark hair and dark eyes. He was fit. “I followed your story in the _Prophet_. I was … inspired.” He laughed a little. “Tell me if I’m being weird.”

“Only a little.” Remus took a deep breath, and felt something in his chest open.

George touched his knee. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes.” Remus managed a smile.


End file.
